Mission
by sherlywherlylock
Summary: My first crossover fic! Kimiko enters the world of the Hunger Games in place of Katniss. Please be nice!
1. Chapter 1

**Ello! I'm crazychick14. New to the Hunger Games, not so new to Xiaolin Showdown.**

**In this, I decided to replace Katniss with Kimiko. She still volunteers, but for a different reason. Kind of AU. I figured I'd do a crossover, just to see how it goes. Please be nice.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games or Xiaolin Showdown. If I did, the movie would have been longer and there would have been a fourth season of XS.**

**Let's begin in District Twelve, shall we?**

I slowly opened my eyes and looked at my surroundings, cautious to every move around me. As every Xiaolin warrior has been trained to do. Nothing but dying grass, with some black substance covering the ground. I picked up a small clump of it and ground it between my fingers. Coal. I shut my eyes and focused. Only my elbow hurt, probably because I had landed on it. My head was spinning. I mentally went through everything I knew about myself. **(A/N yes, I got this from Mockingjay)**

_My name is Kimiko Tohomiko. I'm from Tokyo, Japan. I'm fifteen years old, and I've been specially trained to be a Xiaolin warrior. I'm (almost) the Dragon of Fire, which means I can control fire. My friends are Raimundo, Clay, and Omi. My master is Master Fung. He sent each of us to a separate universe that has a problem we have to fix. He sent me here. I have to find out what's going on. Time to get up._

I pushed myself off the ground and dusted myself off. I examined my surroundings. To my right, a large metal fence with some buildings behind it. To my left and behind me, a forest. Ahead, nothing. I decided to head toward the buildings. I began walking, a hot wind blowing through my hair. I absentmindedly pressed the bruise that was forming on my elbow. After about five minutes, I was near the fence. I heard a faint buzzing and looked at it.

It must be electrified.

I stared at the huge fence and scanned the bottom. Finally, I spotted a hole in the chain. There was a small hole dug into the ground. It must be from human passage. It was big enough for me to crawl through, so that's what I did. I was small enough that I didn't touch the fence, therefore not getting electrocuted. On the other side, I stood and dusted off my clothes. I walked a bit until I came to the nearest houses. They were small and shabby, and every single one was deserted. I kept walking, following the streets that were packed down from use. There had to be _someone_ around here.

After about ten minutes of walking, I saw a huge crowd ahead of me. They all seemed to be filing in to a square. I saw a stage with some big screens on it. I pushed through the crowd and ended up next to some woman just as a man stepped up on stage. I looked up at him, wondering who he was, just as he began to speak.

"In the beginning, Panem was once a country called North America. Here, in District Twelve, they mined coal, even then. However, the country was corrupted. There were tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes. North America was destroyed." The crowd looked bored. They must have heard this before.

"You want the short version, girl?" the woman next to me said. I looked at her suspiciously.

"No. I've heard this many times before," I responded. She huffed.

"Please," she said. "You're not from here. Don't worry, I won't give you away. I just figured I should get you caught up." She looked at me.

"…Okay." She smiled.

"Good. So, this was once North America. When it fell, a new country rose out of the ashes. The leaders called it Panem. It's ruled by the Capitol, with thirteen districts outside. However, the districts rose up against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the Thirteenth district obliterated. New rules were enforced, one being the annual Hunger Games."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Each year, twenty four children are sent to the Capitol. They're dressed up and paraded around, then locked in an arena for a good few weeks."

"Why are they locked up?" I asked. She looks away, at the stage. A woman dressed in all pink has walked up.

"It's a fight to the death," she says.

Her words hit me like a bombshell. No, I don't know these people, but to have innocent children slaughter each other? That's completely unfair. I see what I need to fix. I focus on the pink woman just as she plunges her arm into the ball. She pulls out a slip of paper, walks to the microphone, smooths the paper, and begins to read. Just one name.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

I look around, waiting for something to happen. Suddenly, a large group of kids that all seem to be about twelve years old part. One little girl with blonde hair walks slowly through the path. As she walks, I see her tuck her shirt in in the back. It's this, this act of pure innocence, that sets me over the edge. This is a little girl, no more than twelve, walking up to die. My senses awaken, and I find myself rushing forward. Under ropes blocking the public from the kids. I run up the main aisle after the girl, Primrose. Two men in white uniforms stop me. I fight them, desperate to be heard. This was totally unfair, and I had to stop it. I heard someone shouting, and I realized it was me.

"I volunteer!" I screamed. The men, stunned, released me. I stood up straight, lifting my chin.

"I volunteer as tribute."

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE be nice! This is my first crossover EVER, and I really wanted to try something. Please review!**

**Wait, let me explain my logic here. I never said "please R&R", because that means "read and review". I figure, if you're at the bottom of the page, tormentingly close to the review button, you've already read. So, I just say review. And that is my crazy, mixed-up logic. If you want to know more about Xiaolin Showdown or The Hunger Games, message me. I'll fill you in.**

**Again, PLEASE REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Heeeellllooo! Mission is back with a second chapter! Thanks to Teh Most Hard-Core Kimiko Fan for reviewing! (yes, I did. And I have been DYING to write this!)**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own The Hunger Games, I just worship Suzanne Collins. I also do not own Xiaolin Showdown, however, I eternally thank Christy Hui.**

The guards lost their grip on me. The girl—Primrose—stood there, crying out of pure fear. Effie beckoned for me to go up on stage. I walked slowly forward. The square was completely silent. When I reached Primrose, the girl clutched onto my jacket. I was shocked—I didn't even know her.

"You don't have to do this," Primrose said through tears. She was growing hysterical. Shouldn't she be happy she wasn't going to die?

"Come on, Prim," a voice said. I turned, and a strong young man had walked up behind me. He looked about eighteen, with dark hair and gray eyes. In one fluid motion, he picked up Primrose—Prim, I guess—from behind. She struggled against him. "Up you go," he said to me. I stared as he carried Prim away. Then, I turned and continued my walk forward. I slowly climbed the five stone steps and mounted the stage. Effie had me stand in front of the microphone with her. Thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of eyes were on me, watching, waiting for my next move. My heart pounded and my palms began to sweat. I had never before been nervous in front of a crowd—why now?

"Dear?" Effie's voice interrupted my thoughts. She must have been asking me something. I look at her.

"What?" I asked stupidly. Effie laughed. I could see cameras on rooftops. So this was being recorded. Super.

"I said, what's your name?"

Think. Think. I couldn't use my real name, that would cause trouble. My name was too foreign. People would know. They'd know, then make me leave, and Prim would have to go instead. I thought about Prim.

Primrose Everdeen.

"Ki—" I stumbled out, trying desperately to think. "Katniss." Eyebrows raised in the crowd, but no one questioned it. "Katniss Everdeen." Well, it was as good a name as any. Good thing I took an improvisation class in school.

"I'll bet my buttons that was your sister," Effie said. I nodded. "Well, that's the spirit of the Games!" I looked into the crowd. Prim had tears running down her cheeks and was clinging to a woman—she must be Prim's mother. They looked alike. Same blonde hair, same light eyes. Suddenly, Effie's voice penetrated my thoughts again.

"Now, it's time to choose our male tribute!"

She walked over to the glass ball that held the boy names. Her hand plunged deep into the sea of papers and withdrew a single slip. She walked back to the microphone, her annoyingly high heels clacking the entire way. She unrolled the paper and read—

"Peeta Mellark."

A boy, fifteen or sixteen, began walking forward. He had slicked back, blonde hair and blue eyes. Not sapphire, like everyone tells me mine are, but…different. Like ice, but inviting at the same time. My heartbeat sped up just looking at them. There was something about Peeta Mellark…

The next thing I knew, Peeta was on the stage and holding his hand out. I reached out and numbly shook it, and we stood there, about five feet apart, both doing nothing.

"Well," Effie said. "Let's hear a round of applause for this year's tributes!" She looked around.

Not a single clap.

Instead, everyone in the crowd placed the tips of their three middle fingers to their mouths, and then held them out in our direction. I wondered what it meant. If everyone was doing it, it must be some sign of respect. Huh. Cool.

A second later, those men in white were back. They grabbed hold of my arms and led me inside the building—the Justice Building. I remember reading that above the doorway to the building just before I met that creepy old woman. The men pushed me onto an extremely old elevator that desperately needed fixing. It creaked and shuddered on the way up, and I was glad I was so small. Had I been much heavier, the thing might have collapsed. Finally, the creaky doors slid open and the men pushed me out. I was led down a relatively short hallway and shoved into a small, dark room with a velvet couch and some chairs. The one window in the corner let in just a little watery sunlight. I longed to be home. The men turned around and walked out, shutting the door behind them.

I was completely alone.

I let out the small, choked sob in the back of my throat that rendered me almost unable to speak since Prim grabbed onto my jacket. I sat on the red velvet couch and absentmindedly stroked the arm. It reminded me of the couch at my home back in Tokyo. I stared out the window, breathing back heavy sobs and not letting them escape.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming in my direction and quickly composed myself. I raised my head just as the door opened. In walked Prim and her mother. The girl ran over to me and hugged me, clearly not caring that we had never met before in our lives. She was crying again. I rubbed her back, saying "shhh, shhh, it's alright. Nothing's going to happen to you." Eventually, she calmed down enough so silent tears were running down her cheeks, instead of hysterical sobs she couldn't control. I pulled away from the hug and looked at her.

"So your name's Prim?" I asked. She nodded. "How old are you, Prim?"

"Twelve," she sniffed. "This is my first reaping."

So it's called a reaping. Makes enough sense.

"Why did you do it?" Prim asked me. I looked at her, then at her mother.

"Because this is all unfair. I'm not going to sit around and let innocent people like you die, Prim. Even if we just met." Tears are running down her mother's face now. She sits up straight and grasps my right hand in both of hers.

"Thank you," she manages. Suddenly, the men in white are telling them to leave. "Good luck!" Prim's mother yells behind her as she's shoved out the door. I never even learned her name.

My next visitor is unexpected. The boy who carried Prim away earlier walks in and sits next to me like we're old friends. He looks me in the eye, and I get a chill.

"Who are you?" he asks. "Really."

I sigh. I'm probably going to die anyway. Might as well tell someone.

"My name is Kimiko Tohomiko. I'm from Japan. My master told me there was a problem that needed fixing, then sent me here. Clearly, there is. I met some old woman in the crowd and she told me a little about what's going on. What's your name?" He doesn't look at all shocked at my confession.

"Gale Hawthorne," he says. What is up with the names in this place? "This is my last reaping. I'm eighteen. My mom is friends with Prim's mom, that's how I know them. You got stuck with District Twelve. Sorry about that. Everyone here is poor, except a couple of families and the Mayor and his family. You've never heard of the Hunger Games, have you?"

"No," I say. He quickly begins to explain.

"It's this annual fight to the death on live television. Every district—there are twelve now, there used to be thirteen—sends one boy and one girl to the Capitol. Then they're sent into the arena to kill each other. Last one standing wins. And you just went and volunteered yourself for someone you don't know."

"Yeah, got that part," I say. It comes out meaner that intended. "What can you tell me about the Games?"

He doesn't hesitate for a second. "Get your hands on a weapon, even if you don't know how to use it. Find water. Hunting is your best option. Try not to get killed."

"Thanks," I say. And I actually mean it. Then the men are opening the door and Gale is leaving. "You'll be okay," he calls over his shoulder. I hope he's right.

My next visitor walks in. It's the old woman I met in the square. She sits down and begins talking immediately.

"I don't have much time with you," she says, "but I will tell you this. Number One: do not underestimate the other tributes. They are powerful. A handful have been trained all their lives for this moment. They will not hesitate to kill you at the first chance you get. Number Two: Listen to your mentor. He's your lifeline, and probably what separates you from life and death in the arena. His name is Haymitch, and he's always drunk."

"Awesome," I say sarcastically. My mentor is a drunk? Wait, is he the one who took the head dive at the reaping? I'm as good as dead. The woman reaches into her pocket. My heart speeds up out of instinct. From past experience, I've learned that someone reaching into their pocket, about to pull something out, is never good. A gun or knife, for instance. Instead of what I was thinking, she pulls out a small, circular pin with a bird in the middle. "You're allowed to wear one thing in the arena to remind you of home. Will you wear this?"

Without waiting for an answer, she fastens it to my jacket. I look at the bird. "What kind of—"

"It's a mockingjay," she interrupts. "The Capitol created a bird called a jabberjay to try to spy on the rebels. They were genetically engineered to record and play back people's conversations. The plan backfired when the rebels fed the Capitol lies. The birds were left to die off. However, they didn't die. They mated with the native mockingbirds, and thus was born the mockingjay. They can record and sing back simple songs, but not whole conversations. Please wear it." I nod.

Then the men are back and she's being taken away. "Good luck," she calls behind her. The door shuts, and no one comes in after her.

I am again alone.

**Yay! Second chapter! Please review, although I get the sense not many people are reading this. For those that are, you all get a pot of lamb stew and a pudding cup! (straight from Jack Spicer's overly-manly refrigerator) I love you all!**

**On to the next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hiiiii.**

**This is Chapter Three.**

**Llamas.**

**Haha sorry, just in a random mood (yet again). The next chapter or two are going to be a lot like the actual book because it's really hard to figure everything out… it's all AU, and I'm trying to figure out the whole Kimiko/Peeta thing, so…bear with me.**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Except these pants. They belong to me.**

Chapter Three

I'm sitting on a huge train, staring out the window at the rolling hills and wishing I was anywhere but here. All I want is to go home, tell Master Fung there was nothing to fix, and hang out with my friends in front of a warm fire. Of course, there's always something to fix.

Master Fung actually sent all of us out to different places. I don't know where the guys went. I hope it's better than here. And how Master Fung knew about this place is beyond me. All I know is that volunteering was the wrong way to go about fixing this society. I'll do no good to anyone if I'm dead. I've already considered and ruled out suicide. Every door on this train is locked while we're moving. And we haven't stopped. I stare at the rolling hills outside and think about how I wish I was one of the animals out there. Free to do whatever, say whatever, be whatever. But, of course, none of the animals out there have the weight of the world on their shoulders. When I decided to take it, I had no idea it would be so heavy.

I hear a light clanging near me. I look up, and Effie and Peeta are seated at the table. It's laden with all kinds of exotic foods. Soups, salads, meats, breads. I bet one basket of those rolls could keep two families in District Twelve alive for a week. My stomach growls, and for the first time in what feels like days (although I know it's only been hours), I realize how hungry I actually am. I sit between Effie and an empty seat, which I assume is for Haymitch. I fill a plate, pick up my fork, and fill it with lettuce from a salad, and am about to put it in my mouth when Haymitch walks in. We stop and look at him.

"What?" he asks nonchalantly as he pours himself a drink. He sits at the table but doesn't take any food. Peeta puts down his fork and launches right into what I assume has been his plan from the beginning.

"So, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia?" he asks our clearly hungover mentor. Cornucopia? What is a cornucopia? When Haymitch doesn't answer, Peeta doesn't hesitate. "How do we make a fire with minimal smoke? What's the best way to find—"

"Do you always ask this many questions?" For the first time, I'm actually hearing Haymitch's voice. It's rough and lazy, like he just got out of bed. Heck, he probably did. He takes a few sips of his drink.

"Can you give us _any_ advice?" Peeta asks him.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive," Haymitch says. He begins to chuckle to himself, then starts laughing hysterically.

"That's very funny," Peeta says. Suddenly, he lashes out and knocks Haymitch's drink on the ground. I fly out of my seat as instinct has taught me. The blood-red drink drips off the side of the table and soaks into the carpet. "Only not to us."

Haymitch throws his fist out, and I feel a sharp pain in my forearm. I realize that I automatically threw my hand out to protect Peeta. I grab Haymitch's wrist and bend his hand back. Any harder and it would be broken in two. My eyes met his, and he jerks his wrist away. He reached for his bottle, but I grab Peeta's butter knife (yeah, great weapon, I know) stab it into the table, narrowly missing his fingers.

"Katniss!" Effie gasps. I look around, then remember she's talking to me. I have to remember my name is Katniss now. "That table is mahogany!"

Haymitch stares daggers at me. A bruise is beginning to form on my arm. I leave it alone, knowing that getting ice for it would make me look like I actually care about a little bruise. He stands up straight and looks at us. He begins to circle us in a very creepy way. I feel my muscles tense, and I'm ready to fight. But Haymitch makes no moves to attack.

"Looks like they finally gave me a pair of fighters this year," he says. He gestures to me. "You," he says. "Your name?"

"Kim—" I quickly stop myself. "Katniss."

"What else can you hit with that knife?"

I pick up the knife again, aim, and throw it at the wall. The only hesitation I have is that Effie might have some strange emotional attachment to the wall, but I soon decide I don't care. I've always been good at aiming. Some say I'm a crackshot. I like to call myself lucky. Anyway, the knife lodges itself between the window and the wall. Perfect. I look at Haymitch.

"Listen to me very carefully," he says, getting close to our faces. This man irritates me so much, I want to punch him. In the face. Hard.

"If you don't interfere with my drinking, I'll stay sober enough to help you." It's a fair deal. Kind of confusing, but fair all the same. Peeta and I look at each other.

"Deal," I say for both of us. Haymitch picks up his bottle. I glare at him, and Peeta crosses his arms. We already think the same. I think I'm going to like this kid.

"We don't get to the Capitol until tomorrow afternoon," he says. "I can be as drunk as I want until then." Then, he makes what may be the most dramatic exit I've ever seen by walking into the wall next to the door. He grunts, slides to the left, and walks out while Peeta and I try to contain our laughter. Effie doesn't join in. I think she's still upset about her table.

**Aieeeee! Chapter 3! Thanks to ****ladyyuuki16**** and ****denby**** for reviewing! Onto the next—**

**Jack: You! You're the one who took my pudding cups!**

**Me: Uh… no, I didn't. I…borrowed them!**

**Jack: Well, I want them back!**

**Me: Look! Chase Young, in all his manly glory!**

***Jack starts drooling while I make my epic escape***

**Everyone, please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Heeeeeyyyyyyyy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Chapter Four

After the little Haymitch episode, Peeta and I talk to Effie for a while about what it would be like for us before the Games began. I have to hold a lot of my questions back, because they're common knowledge. If I ask them, Effie and Peeta would know I'm not from here, and then where would we be?

"So where do we go when we get to the Capitol?" Peeta asks Effie. She puts down her makeup and looks at us.

"The two of you are so civilized that I forgot you've never been to the Capitol before," Effie responds. I look at Peeta. I can tell we both highly resent this comment—him for his home and the people there, and me for those I'm trying to help.

She thinks they're uncivilized.

I think she's being unfair, but I hold my tongue. I don't want to get Effie Trinket mad at me—her heels could hurt me in many different ways. I inconspicuously eye her feet as she answers Peeta's question.

"When you get to the Capitol, you're going to go to the Remake Center. That's where you'll meet your stylist and your prep team. Together, they will get you ready for the opening ceremonies tonight." Effie almost looks bored at this. I wonder how many of these trips she's made, or how many tributes under her care she's watched die. I almost feel bad for her.

Almost.

"I'll be going out into the city, of course, to get sponsors for you," Effie continues. What? What will sponsors do for us?

"What would happen if we don't get sponsors?" I ask. Effie and Peeta look at me. Did I ask the wrong question? Oh, man, I blew my cover! Great. Back to District Twelve I go…

"You'd better hope you get sponsors, Katniss," Effie says harshly. "They could mean the difference between your life and death."

I almost let out a sigh of relief. She called me Katniss. I'm safe. Of course, I still have no idea what sponsors do. But I guess I'll get that question answered on my own. Effie glances at the clock on the wall. It's ten at night.

"Well, I suppose we should all go to bed," Effie chirps. How is she so hyped up? I'm dead tired. Then again, I've had a much more stressful day than her. She does this every year. I silently nod my agreement, stifling a yawn. Peeta agrees, and says goodnight. We head off to our respective rooms. Unfortunately, I have to pass Haymitch's room to get to my own. I'm walking by his door when all of a sudden, it opens and I'm being pulled inside.

The smell—or, rather, the stench—hits me before the door is even closed. Disgusting, like a mixture of dirty clothes, vomit, and alcohol. Then again, that's probably what it is. Even Haymitch smells bad. I desperately want to open the window, and maybe shove Haymitch out… man, that would be fun. Instead of taking violent actions against my mentor, I decide to be sarcastic.

"Haymitch," I say, "You do know you have a shower… right?"

He rolls his eyes, which are, of course, bloodshot. Then he looks me right in my eyes, and chills run down my spine. He points at me.

"Who are you?" he asks. Great. Another one.

"Katniss—" I begin, but he interrupts me.

"The truth!" he almost yells. I guess he's not yelling out of fear of drawing Effie down here. Not the best scenario. I sigh.

"My name is Kimiko. I am the Xiaolin Dragon of Fire, and I am very obviously not from District Twelve. I'm fifteen years old, and I'm from Tokyo, Japan, although I doubt you know where that is. I was sent here on a mission to fix some messed-up society, but volunteering for the Games was probably not the smartest way to go about doing that. So can you _please_ explain what a cornucopia is? And what do the sponsors do?" I hate having to reveal who I am, but he seems to know something, so I let it slide this time.

"From the moment I saw you, I knew you weren't from Twelve," Haymitch says. "I've seen everyone in District Twelve, and for some fifteen-year-old girl I've never seen before to come in and say she's volunteering, well, I knew something was up," he clearly hates me. What did I ever do to him?

Oh… I almost amputated his fingers and broke his wrist. Right. Forgot about that.

"You won't tell anyone," I say nervously. "Will you?" I'm already this far. I can't let it fall apart now.

"No," Haymitch says. I let out a sigh of relief. "I just hope you're a good liar. Because if you aren't, you'll end up like 1,749 other people are. Dead."

My blood runs cold.

I leave Haymitch's room and walk down the hallway to my own. I push the door open and step inside. The floor is carpeted, so I pull off my shoes. I find some soft pajama pants and a tank top in the drawer and pull them on. I brush my teeth and collapse into my bed. I fall asleep thinking of home.

XxXx

"You think she'll be okay?" Clay asked Master Fung. They were watching Kimiko using a new Shen Gong Wu called the Wolf's Eye Charm. Clay had already finished his mission to another broken world. He had fixed the society, and they were eternally grateful. Omi and Raimundo were still gone.

"I do not know," Master Fung responded. "When I sent her to Panem, I did not expect her to actually volunteer for the Games."

"What'll happen if she… loses?" Clay asked nervously.

"Don't think like that, young one. If she loses… we must hope she wins."

**Okay, so I included a little Clay and Master Fung there! Yay always fun! Also, that 1,749 thing is real. I actually did the math on that. It's how many people have died collectively in the course of the Games. So yeah. MATH GENIUS RIGHT HERE.**

**Thanks to ****ladyyuuki16**** and ****VanillaStratos**** for reviewing!**

**Please review! The button is right there! You only need to press it and type! GO! BE STRONG, YOUNG ONE!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am going to apologize up front for not updating sooner. But I have two jobs this summer, and such. So yeah. I'm sorry. I PROMISE I'll try to be a better updater.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Hunger Games or Xiaolin Showdown.**

The next morning, I woke to bright sunshine pouring in my window. I squinted, wondering what time it was, when I looked out the window and saw the moving trees outside.

I bolted out of bed, certain I had been kidnapped and knocked out and I was being taken to some remote island where no one would ever find me when I remembered where I was. On a train to the Capitol. In this messed-up, dystopic society. On my way to certain death. I sighed and decided a shower would slow my pulse to the point where I wasn't thinking of a way to best my kidnappers.

After my shower, I put on the first shirt and pants I pulled from the drawer. I ended up wearing a brown shirt with white lace and blue jeans. Barefoot while on the train. Unless Effie doesn't want my bare feet touching the precious floor because she has some fetish with that, too. I'll put on shoes in the Capitol. I walked out of my room and into the dining compartment. Effie and Haymitch were there. I sat, not taking any food quite yet.

"So where's Peeta?" I asked them. Haymitch looked at me. I realized he was the type of person who likes to get revenge on his enemies- and judging from what I did to him, along with the way he was looking at me, he wanted me to rue the day I was born. Oh, well. I like having birthdays.

Effie delicately wiped her face with a lacy white napkin that she pulled from her lap- Haymitch's was in a ball on the table- and looked at me.

"I think he's still sleeping," she replied to me. "I can't blame him. He was probably up half the night with worry. Most tributes are. You got up early, based on the tributes from previous years, Katniss."

That makes sense. At the Temple, the guys and I got- _get_- up at five every morning for morning chores and training. I can't help being an early riser. I checked the clock on the wall: 7:36. Both Omi and Master Fung would have my head for getting up this late. Of course, I'm not in the Temple. I decide to push the Temple from my mind and focus at the task at hand: the Games. We'll arrive in the Capitol today. I load my plate with food, and even when I start feeling like my stomach will burst, I keep eating until I've finished two plates full. The best thing I can do between now and the Games is put on a few pounds.

I've just finished my last piece of bacon when Peeta walks in. There are bags under his eyes. I remember what Effie said and decide not to comment. He sits and fills his plate without a word. After about half his plate is gone, he breaks the awkward silence between the four of us.

"So we'll be in the Capitol today, right, Effie?" he asks her. She fumbles around in her purple, feathery, rhinestone-studded jacket pocket for a matching pocket watch and checks the time.

"Yes," she replies. "We should be there in about two hours, if we don't stop. There, you'll meet your prep teams and go over with them what will be done for the opening ceremonies." Peeta nods solemnly. I stand, place my napkin on my empty plate, and walk out of the car and head to my room. Once there, I sit on my bed- someone made it for me- and hold my head in my hands as the room begins to spin violently.

Two hours. I have two hours of solitude before I'm going to be prepared for the crowds like a cow getting ready for slaughter. That's basically how these people see me, isn't it? Just another animal, ready to be slaughtered. Survival of the fittest.

I decide to spend these two hours reflecting on what could soon be my past life. I pulled the necklace off of my neck and looked at it. Simple chain, circle a little larger than a quarter. Emblazoned with the colors of fire. The Xiaolin Dragon symbol- a dragon curling around the Eye of Dashi- in black. I flipped the circle over and read the inscription.

_To Kimiko_

_Now and forever_

_The Xiaolin Dragon of Fire_

_Love,_

_Raimundo_

_Clay_

_And_

_Omi_

This necklace means the world to me. And when I die, I want to be wearing it. Haymitch told me they would take my pin and examine it for possible advantages in the arena. Will they take my necklace, too? No. I won't let them. They said I'm only allowed to have one thing in the arena to remind me of home. And though I'd rather have the necklace as my symbol, people would know. Plus, I promised the old woman I'd wear the mockingjay pin. I'll just hide the necklace under my shirt, or in my pocket or something. I'm not taking it off.

I remember all the good times I had with my friends. Doing chores using Shen Gong Wu, kicking Jack Spicer's butt, getting Shen Gong Wu, kicking Jack Spicer's butt. And just living there. Being friends with them. I remember the water balloon ambush Raimundo pulled on the rest of us. We were hanging out under a tree one really hot day, and all of a sudden, something exploded on Omi's head. We immediately jumped up, sure of an ambush, when we saw Raimundo. He threw balloons at us, and used his powers to make sure they hit their marks. Soon, all four of us were soaked, thanks to Omi, who sent a wave over our friend Raimundo. It was one of the best times of my life.

Suddenly, there was a knock on my door.

"Katniss?" I heard Peeta's voice through the door. I hooked my necklace back on and tucked it into my shirt.

"What's up, Peeta?" I called. I looked in the mirror. My face was red and splotchy. I guess I was crying. I listened to Peeta while I walked to the bathroom and splashed my face with water. Better.

"We're almost inside the Capitol. Do you want to look at the city with me?" he asked me. I considered my options. I could go with him. Or I could stay here and wallow in my self-pity for however many precious minutes of relative freedom I have left.

I guess I'll go.

"Yeah, one second," I called back. "Let me get some shoes on." I pulled on socks and sneakers I found in the closet and grabbed my mockingjay pin. I fastened it on my shirt and opened the door. Peeta stood there, looking somewhat pale and shaken. Encounter with a drunk Haymitch, I'm guessing. Did he already forget about his deal with us? All I can come up with right now is that Peeta needs a friend. And I never, ever turn my back on someone that needs me. I grasp his hand and walk into the hallway, shutting my door behind me for what could be the last time.

"Let's go," I say. I let him lead me to a car with one wall that is an entire glass window. We sit on the couch and peer outside. We're still in a tunnel, he tells me. Effie and Haymitch walk in and stand behind us.

Suddenly, I'm blinded by sunlight. I squint, then get my first look at the Capitol City of Panem. The houses are pinks and blues and yellows. The people are dressed strangely, like they jumped into a vat of "hey, let's dress like idiots!" juice and walked into this city. I can't make out exactly what they're wearing, but they seem to get excited when they see the train. Peeta begins to wave, and I follow his lead. Hey, the best thing I can do is get people on my side as soon as I can. But then we're in another tunnel and our view of the artificial-candy Capitol is cut off. Peeta and I step off the train.

I didn't realize I was still holding his hand until I had to let go.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, so hi! I'm trying to be a better updated than I have been of late, so here'schapter six!**

**Please review! Because reviews mean a lot to me!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown, The Hunger Games, OR Edward Cullen.**

Ten minutes after Peeta and I left the train, I found myself sitting on a stool in front of two people. One works on making my nails as perfect as humanly possible, and the other insists on making my eyebrows perfect. A third person stands behind me and massages goo into my hair. When we first met, they told me their names were Flavius (massaging my scalp), Octavia (filing my nails) and Viena (ripping out my eyebrows). My prep team. I'll see them almost every day, I'm guessing. And they couldn't be more annoying.

Flavius is blabbering on about his cousin's dog's puppies, and how his cousin is going to dye them in rainbow colors. I love dogs, and that just seems cruel. Viena's talking to Octavia about a new cosmetic surgery many people in the Capitol are undergoing. It's called the Crystal Transformation. Apparently, they embed crystals into your pores so you sparkle like Edward Cullen. I stopped listening when I made that connection.

Finally, after what seems like three eternities, I'm ready for the stylist. The prep team has stopped filing, ripping hair from, and preparing my body, they leave. I'm left alone. I see a paper gown in the corner and pull it on. Then, I walk to the floor-to-ceiling window in the other room when the door opens and in walks my stylist.

I don't know what I was expecting him to look like, but whatever it was, he didn't meet my expectations. He is tall and skinny, with dark skin and hair. He wears a black shirt and black pants with black shoes, and gold eyeliner frames his chocolate-brown eyes. Those eyes are warm, welcoming... comforting. Just his presence makes my heart beat a little slower.

"Hello, Katniss," he says to me. "I'm your stylist, Cinna."

I immediately decide Cinna is a friend. He gestures to the couch, and we both sit. A meal rises from the table, something those in District 12 would never be able to replicate.

"We must seem so despicable to you," he says to me. I look up from my examination of the meal and meet his eyes. I don't respond. We both eat our lunch, then he goes to work on my hair. I watch his hands carefully in the mirror. They braid and pin the long, black strands quickly, with expert motions.

"This is my first year in the Games, you know," he tells me.

"So they stuck you with Twelve?" I ask. I've learned a lot from Haymitch about the twelve districts in Panem, and District 12 is the poorest and worst off. It only makes sense they'd put him with the worst district in his first year.

"I asked for Twelve," he replies. I have to admit, I'm a bit shocked. His hands stop moving, and I look at my hair in the mirror. It's shoulder-length and curly. I wonder what I'm going to look like for the opening ceremonies. In this world, nudity is probably the last word in fashion. The door opens and my prep team walks in. Cinna asks me to shut my eyes, and I obey. The team helps me step into leather, and I'm wearing what feels like a head-to-toe leather body suit. Boots come next- those are up to my knees. Something is clipped onto my shoulders, and then something heavy, but lightweight at the same time is placed on my head.

"Open your eyes," Cinna says, and I slowly look at myself in the mirror.

I'm dressed from head to toe in black leather, with matching leather boots. I remember the coal dust I found in the field and the mayor's explanation about the district: they mine coal. My outfit looks like a giant piece of coal. However, it's the headdress and the flowing cape that make this outfit stand out. The colors of fire flow down my back. I look stunning. The team puts the finishing touches on my makeup, and I'm ready to go.

"We have to go meet Peeta and Portia," Cinna says to me. I'm going to guess Portia is Peeta's stylist. We say good-bye to my prep team and walk down the long hallway. Soon, we see Peeta, Portia, and Effie waiting in a hallway by a door. No Haymitch. Peeta is wearing the guy version of what I'm wearing, minus all the makeup. We acknowledge each other, then Effie leads the four of us outside to a large circle behind a closed gate. Twelve chariots, each pulled by two horses, await the tributes. I count eighteen tributes, including us. Three teams to go. Effie leads us to a black chariot, pulled by coal-black horses so well trained that they don't require a person to lead them. Portia and Cinna turn to us, and Cinna pulls something from his pocket.

"We worked out a little something to really make the two of you stand out," Portia said. Cinna pressed a button on the thing he was holding, and I saw a small flame appear.

"Don't worry, it's fake," he said. Worried? Me? The Xiaolin Dragon of Fire in training? A little fire doesn't scare me. "It just looks real. And what do we do with coal? We burn it. Now get up in the chariot." Peeta and I climbed into the chariot.

"What do you think of the fire?" I ask.

"I'll pull off yours if you pull off mine," he responds. I decide to play along and nod agreement. I look around. All of the tributes are here now, and the first chariot is pulling out of the gate with the pair from District One. They look so beautiful, in silver clothes studded with gems. I can hear the roar of the crowd. The next chariot pulls out, and soon after, there are only three chariots ahead of us. Cinna steps up and holds the torch to our capes. I expect to feel heat, but there is only a slight tickling sensation. I can tell Peeta is thinking the same thing. He has a confused look on his face. Cinna lights our headdresses. Two chariots left.

"Good luck," Cinna says. He steps down. One chariot left. He walks to stand by Portia and Effie, and motions for us to do something.

"What did he say?" Peeta asks me.

"I think he wants us to hold hands," I reply. The chariot ahead of us pulls out into the crowd. Peeta grabs my hand, and our chariot begins to move.

I remember Haymitch telling me about sponsors, and think that now is as good a time as any to get a few people on my side. Just as we pull through the gates, I put on the most dazzling smile I have in me. Peeta must be doing the same, but I can't tell because I'm too busy looking at the crowds. They're going nuts- shouting our names, which they bothered to find in the programs. I wave with my other hand and even blow a few kisses. A rose lands near me, then another comes soaring at me. I catch it, give it a sniff, and throw it back in the general direction it came from. We're halfway to the circle at the end now. The sensation of being the center of attention, even though it's for these wretched Games, is extraordinary.

After much smiling, waving, and blowing kisses, our chariot pulls into the City Circle. A small man with white hair who I assume to be President Snow steps onto the balcony. The cameras, as I see on a large screen, make an effort to cut around to each pair of tributes, but Peeta and I get more than our fair share of time on-screen. As night falls, it's becoming increasingly difficult to take your eyes of the flames surrounding us. The chariots parade around the circle a final time as the national anthem plays, and although each pair of tributes is featured, Peeta and I are basically followed out of the circle and almost into a large building by the cameras. The doors shut behind us.

Our prep teams engulf us in praise. Cinna removes our capes and headdresses, and Portia extinguishes the flames with a spray from a canister. I can smell it from here, and it's threatening to make me gag. The other tributes are staring at us, and some are shooting us dirty looks. Jealous, every one of them. I let go of Peeta's hand and massage my own knuckles. Haymitch mumbles praise for us, and we walk inside. I walk back with Haymitch.

"Training Center," he says to me. "Your home away from Twelve until the Games begin. District Twelve gets the top floor. You, me, Peeta, and Effie all live up there until the Games begin. Now, it's time for dinner."

Good. I'm starving.


	7. Chapter 7

**Do I really need to tell you how sorry I am? Junior year was ****_incredibly _****hectic for me, and I kind of lost interest in this story. *cue ashamed puppy face* But now I have a pet crab named Mr. Snappers that I got from a reviewer and I'm going to try to be better! Promise!**

**Note: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown OR the Hunger Games.**

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><p>I didn't sleep well that night. Maybe it was the prospect of day one of training the next day looming over me, or the fact I was so used to sleeping on a mat with three different types of snoring lulling me to sleep (not) that the comfort and silence of the room wouldn't let me relax. I spent the night alternating between restless sleep and staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence as it threatened to suffocate me.<p>

I was up early the next morning, after a shower, and was wearing the training uniform that had been provided for me. I put the pin on the outside of my shirt and tied my hair up in its usual training pigtails. Then I took it down. This wasn't _my _training I was going to. This was _their_ training. I stood in front of the mirror in my room and watched my reflection staring at me.

The girl in the mirror looked strong somehow. She looked unafraid of death. She looked… _brave_.

Pretty much the total opposite of how I felt right then. I sighed and stepped out of view of the mirror, taking my necklace out from my pocket. I sat down on my huge bed and held it in my hands, turning the charm over in my fingers.

I wondered if any of them had returned from their missions yet. If they were okay. Maybe they were watching me, chastising me on my choice to volunteer. I could hear Raimundo.

_"Are you insane, Kimi? You could be killed! Your assignment was to fix the problem, not go so far on the inside that you risk your own life!"_

I laughed dryly. As irritating as he was, Rai was always concerned about me, though he denied it. I kissed the charm of my necklace and slipped it into my shoe, making sure it was secure. I finally settled on tying my hair back in a ponytail and left my room for an early breakfast.

To my surprise, Peeta and Haymitch were already there, eating slowly and discussing the game plan for training. I took a breath and walked over to them, taking my seat and filling my plate. Might as well gain a few pounds before the Games began, I was underweight as it was.

"Hello," Peeta greeted me. I nodded to him and continued listening as he and Peeta continued their conversation.

"You can't fight with the other tributes," Haymitch was saying. "You'll be punished. Though it's not like they're not punishing you already by sending you here… Also, don't show your _best_ skills around the other tributes. You don't want them to know your strong points, or they'll start coming up with ways to beat you at them. Leave your talents as a surprise for them in the arena. That'll be an advantage." We both nodded simultaneously.

For the next hour we sat at the table, listening to him give us advice about training. What to do and what not to do. What to practice. He suggested spending a fair amount of time at the fire-starting station.

Yeah. Like _I _needed help starting fires.

Effie came out an hour later, dressed in an outfit that was so red that she looked like a walking strawberry.

"Are we all ready to go?" She asked and clapped her hands together for emphasis. I nodded to the strawberry and off we went to the elevators. The ride down was swift, and I wished it would take longer than it did. We reached the training room. Effie saw us off at the doors, and our names and District numbers were pinned on our backs.

We walked in. The rest of the tributes were already there, standing in a circle around a woman.

"Good," the lady said in a voice as smooth as honey. "Now that you're all here, we can begin. This is your first day out of three of training. There will be no fighting between tributes. There is staff available for you to practice hand-to-hand combat with. My recommendation is to _not_ skip the survival skills and head straight for the weapons. Most of you will die from natural causes. Exposure can kill as easily as a knife."

She let us go. I didn't know what to practice at first- we had learned a lot of this stuff during training at the Temple. I knew how to handle a weapon, how to start a fire, how to identify edible plants. But how to purify water? I didn't know that one. I wasn't good at disguises, either, or knot tying. I started there, manipulating ropes with my fingers until I knew how to make ten different knots. As I tied, I watched the other tributes. District Two girl. Wicked with knives. Boy from the same district. Liked swords. District one girl- pretty, not too bright. I make a special note of the girl from District 11. She was small, but she was _fast_. I was impressed. The boy from her district was huge, possibly bigger than Clay. Thinking about Clay made my heart ache.

All I wanted was to go home.

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><p><strong>Please review!<strong>


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